Invisible
by SamanthaD
Summary: Marlena struggles to come to terms with a horrible act of violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Invisible - 1**

Slowly he moves inside me, savoring the moment. Silently I lay beneath him, eyes tightly closed trying to erase the memory of his touch from my mind. Later I know I'll wash all traces of him off of me and act like nothing happened. But for now I'll put up a brave front and act as if nothing is wrong, as if this is nothing more than casual accidental sex between friends.

"Come on baby." He slurs his words in my ear, the scent of alcohol hot and heavy on his breath. I try not to breathe, try not to smell the scent of him. Holding my breath I calculate how long I have until my body betrays me and I involuntarily breathe. The scent of his arousal and drunkenness is almost more than I can take, but I refuse to give him the pleasure of knowing that this, that he, bothers me. Silently I suffer praying that he comes quickly.

"I love the feel of you," he whispers as he tries to flip my body over. Fighting him I lay on my back refusing to give him any more power over me. He's taken more from me tonight that he even knows is possible.

Everything about this situation is wrong.

Faster and faster he pumps himself into me as his fat fingers needle my breasts. A couple more minutes and it will be over I tell myself over and over. A couple more minutes.

I hold my breath and will myself not to react to this, to him. A couple more minutes and it will be over.

I feel the sweat from his forehead as it drips down and lands on my bare chest. This is really happening to me as much as I tell myself that its not. He's really doing this.

I tell myself that I'm strong and that this will be over soon. I concentrate on memorizing the pattern of the tiles on the ceiling, anything to get my mind off what he is doing.

With a final push I feel his body as he involuntarily shudders and I know that he's emptied himself into me. I can't stop my tears as they betray my fear and pain. He's to far gone to even notice that I was never a willing participant and that he took something that wasn't his to take.

"Maybe we can do this again," he murmurs as he tries to hold me in his arms. I know that there will never be another time, that this will never happen again.

I wait for what seems like forever for him to pass out so that I can escape him, escape this. Slowly I extricate myself from his arms and gather what's left of my clothes. There can never be another time, this will never happen again and if I'm lucky my pain will remain invisible.

XXXXX

Doc, is that you?" John asks as I enter the penthouse. What am I supposed to say to him? What is my response supposed to be? With a heavy heart and a mind

preoccupied, I close and lock the wooden door.

"Yes." I summon my most cheerful voice and try to act like things are perfect, that I'm fine. I foolishly tell myself that I'm safe here, that nothing happened. 

"What took so long? I expected you home hours ago." The richness of his voice carries through the house and provides me with some comfort. I know that I'm safe here.

John, oh John, such a trusting man. How do I break his heart and tell him what happened? I can't and I won't. The pain is mine to bear alone. I've already put him through so much this past year and what happened tonight is an unnecessary burden. "I ran into someone I know." I wouldn't call them a friend, not after tonight. After tonight I will do all that is in my power to avoid him and never give him the opportunity to do what he did to me again.

"Anyone I know."

"No one important." It's easier to lie to him than to face the truth of what happened to me.

"I missed you baby," he admits as he finally enters the room. I can tell by the look in his eyes, the way that he's staring at me curiously, that something is wrong.

"What's wrong?" I ask him as I finally approach him. I feel the smooth silk of my shirt as it moves against my chest leaving me with a feeling of iciness. I need to change. I need to get these clothes off me and destroy them. I need to erase all traces of him off of me. Then I'll be okay.

"Nothing, I was worried about you….that's all." What did I ever do to deserve this man? I'm the one that's three hours late and he's not mad at me, only concerned.

"That's sweet John."

Curiously he looks me at and I know what he's thinking. Why am I not touching him? Why am I not rushing into his arms? Why am I still standing in the entrance way to the penthouse, unable to move more than a few feet into the safety of my own house? Looking anywhere but at him I try to summon my best game face and push down the thousand different thoughts that run through my head, thoughts that should be of him but aren't. Growing up my mama used to tell me that time healed all wounds and I know that she's right but at this very moment in time I'm feeling so uncomfortable in my own skin, lost in a way.

"Marlena." It's those damn eyes of his, eyes that I've never been able to lie to or hide from. Some of my patients will tell me that they have something in their life that acts as a moral compass for them, whether it be a cross on the wall, a statue of Buddha, or a Star of David pendant around their necks. They have some connection and reminder of what is right in the world, what is moral. I'm a practicing catholic but I never felt that Catholic guilt or the need to confess. But for some reason John is my talisman and always has been. One look into his eyes and I know what course I need to take, what's right. It's killing me inside to look into his eyes and see how wrong I am, see my guilt, see the pain that I am incapable of stopping.

"Marlena," he repeats again when he doesn't get an answer. I can't look at him, I can't.

What just happened is a deal breaker in our marriage. I know that and he knows that. I can rationalize in my own mind the details of how it happened, but it doesn't change the facts.

"Talk to me," he whispers in a low tone as he cups my chin with him nimble fingers and tries to look into my eyes.

I can't.

"Honey, you're scaring me."

I can't look at him and his touch is more than I can bear. Backing away from him quickly, I feel the hardness of the door as it slams into my back. Flashbacks of what happened earlier flash through my mind as hard as I try to prevent it. I feel the sweat as it forms on my forehead and I'm aware that my heart rate has increased. As the blood flows quickly, it feels like my heart is slamming itself against the wall of my chest and I have to look down to see if what I feel is visible. I'm a doctor, why can't I control my bodies' reaction?

"What's wrong?" he asks with that damn look in his eye and he once again approaches me. I want nothing more for him to take me into his arms and make everything alright again, make me alright, but I'm scared of him. I'm scared of his touch. I'm scared that he's going to find out what happened and judge me for it. Either see me as a helpless victim or blame me.

"I'm fine, just a little tired." This much is true. My lies haven't started yet.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'd like to go up and take a shower and change," I tell him as I try to put as much distance between us and walk towards the balcony. "Would you mind making me some tea?"

"Sure." He follows me into the living room and stands behind me, placing his strong hands on my shoulders. He starts to kneed the tense and knotted muscles, my body's visible betrayal of my secret.

Why is this so hard?

I stand tense before him, hating the feel of his hands on me. Maybe later I'll feel differently, but right now I want to crawl into my own skin and hide. But I know that I need to be strong and keep up the pretense, keep up the illusion.

"Doc, you are so tense baby." His hands slowly reach down to my chest and I can't help my reaction as I tense up and move back against him. "You're on fire baby," he whispers, taking my response as one of arousal.

I can't do this. I can't do this.

I feel his fingers and they move the shirt off my shoulders, baring even more skin. "Do you know how horny you make me? God, I want you all the time." Praying to a God that I'm not sure I even believe in anymore I wish that he'd stop touching me. It's too soon, but how can I deny my husband something that he's come to expect on a regular basis?

Silently I stand and try to suppress my emotions and remind myself that this is John, that I'm safe. I refuse to cry, clenching my eyes as tightly as I can to ward off the tears. As his hands travel down my bare arms removing my shirt I feel his fat fingers doing the same thing. I can't do this. I can't do this to John. John loves me and would never hurt me. He is not John.

I allow John to undress me as I detach myself from what's happening. I feel each piece of clothing as it's removed and the cold air chills my skin. John is breathing heavily into my ear as he describes in detail what he wants to do to me. I don't really care; I just want it to be over and done with.

Quickly he picks me and carries me up the stairs to our bedroom. He's done this a thousand times. I tell myself that tonight will be no different. I can do this. I am strong enough. My pain will remain invisible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Invisible ****- 2**

Have you ever done something that you didn't want to do just because it was the right thing to do at the time? Have you ever willingly ignored that voice of your subconscious telling you not to do it? I had to do that and so much more today and I hate myself for it. I'm doing everything that I've told patients I counsel not to do. I should be in the hospital being examined; I should be giving a report to the police about my attacker. He should be arrested and in jail, but he's not. No, he's safe at home with his wife and family living their perfect life of domestic bliss. And I'm in this goddamn shower trying to wash all traces of him off of me.

I feel like a whore in a novel. In the span of three hours two different men have laid claim to my body. First him and then John. What kind of woman does that? What was I thinking? Why didn't I just tell John what happened?

I'm going to make myself crazy if I keep thinking about it.

Spotting the masculine body wash that John always uses, I open the cap and breathe in deeply. I've always loved the smell and tonight is no different. Squeezing a generous amount in my hands I rub them together until white foam forms. Placing my leg against the wall, I reach down and rub up and down until the body wash covers my leg, covers me.

Slowly I scrub, trying to wash away the memories. I can do it, I foolishly tell myself. I can replace the memories of him with memories of John. What happened tonight doesn't have to matter and shouldn't.

Grabbing my wrist he tells me to stop flirting with him, that I'm a tease. I slam my eyes closed and try to push the memory of how it all started out of my mind.

Harder I scrub, trying to erase his touch. I see him as he places my hands above my head and holds them in place. "Come on," I joke with him, not thinking that he's going to take this any further.

I can't do this. I don't want to remember. How it started doesn't matter. How it ended doesn't matter. All that matters to me now is that John never finds out.

"You want this Marlena….you've always wanted me." He's slurring his words and I can smell the alcohol that has permeated his shirt. She told me earlier that he was having problems and would I be a good friend and talk to him. Talking wasn't what he had in mind.

"Why did I do it?" I ask myself. Why?

Faster and faster I scrub the memory away of him sliding his filthy disgusting cock into me. Until that point I didn't think he was going to do it. I really didn't. I begged and pleaded with him not to, to think about all that he would lose. He crudely pointed out the unmistakable obvious to me; I had much more to lose. He was an out of control alcoholic, but I was a medical professional with a reputation, a career, and a jealous husband.

"I bet Johnny boy loves how tight you are," he laughed as thrust into me over and over. I tried to ignore him, ignore what he was doing, but he was making it impossible.

I feel myself starting to heave and have to stop myself. I need to be as quiet as possible so John won't know something is wrong. I think about how he's waiting outside in our bed for me to finish so that we can cuddle before we go to sleep. I can't allow myself to deviate from our routine. I lean into the cold marble of the shower. I can't think about him. I need to think about John. Running my fingers against the cool surface, I tell myself that I can do this. I can replace my memories of him with John.

John. John. John. John. I need to think about John.

It takes but seconds for me to remember the intense pleasure I felt under his nimble fingers tonight. Does that make me a whore, the fact that I came multiple times at my husbands urging?

"John," I moan as I hold his head firmly in place between my legs. The feeling of his tongue and it moves up and down is incredible. I feel like every nerve ending is alive and overheated, like its going to explode. Gasping, I'm unable to do anything but lay helpless after wave after wave of pleasure overtakes my body. In all my life, no one and I mean no one, has ever come close to pleasuring me the way that John does. All of my past lovers were always so concerned about their own pleasure that they ignored mine. John is different. In addition to being the first person ever to orally pleasure me, he always makes sure that I'm satisfied before he is. Roman always had an excuse and never wanted to, but not John. And tonight was no different.

Holding on tightly to the 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, I give into the sensation of John's tongue exploring me, licking me, slowly thrusting in and out. "Come for me Doc," he urges me as he takes a moment to look up. The sight of his blue eyes between my milky thighs is mesmerizing. God I love this man.

John's face is replaced by his. I see his dark eyes as they stare at me, demanding compliance, demanding my control. "Fuck you," I spit in his face. Grabbing me by the hair, he holds on tightly. I can feel nothing but the painful sensation of each hair follicle being stretched tightly across my scalp. God does it hurt. He has me in a position where can't look anywhere but up at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you Marlena."

I can't do this. Was it something that I did?

The water runs off my head in droplets, collecting in a pool and running in a uniform line down the drain. As much shampoo and bodywash that I use I can't wash away the pain and guilt that I feel. I can't wash away the memory of what happened earlier with someone whom I trusted, someone that was my friend. And John, oh my precious John. How do I tell him what happened with his friend? This man is like a brother to him; he's been to our house countless times, to our children's birthday parties, to Christmas dinner.

I know that I can't say anything, I can't destroy a life no matter what he did to me. He was drunk and didn't mean to do it. Did I inadvertently send him signals that I wanted him, that it wanted it? Was it something I said? Something I did? Something I wore? Why did he do this to me?

Should I have fought harder?

John. My sweet John.

Slowly he moves inside me, savoring the moment. We've done this a thousand different times in a thousand different places and each time has been different and tonight is no exception. As his hand moves along my jaw with the lightest of touches I tell myself that this is John and I'm safe. As his hand moves down my bare arm I can't help but panic. He touched me like that tonight. Grabbing my hand he takes it and places it above my head like he did.

John's doing things to my body that he's done a thousand times, things that I normally love and cherish but right now I feel like I'm just going through the motions. I can't enjoy what he's doing to me, I won't enjoy it.

"Come on baby," he whispers in my ear. Does he sense my hesitation? Does he know that I'd rather be anywhere in the world right now, but right here, right now?

I feel him as he gently enters me, picking up on my body's signals that this is what I need. I'm grateful in a way that he can read me like no other. For an instant I panic, hoping that he didn't pick up on my hesitation, my fear. This is John, I tell myself over and over. Closing my eyes I allow myself to relax enough to enjoy the moment, enjoy the inevitable.

His breathing is hot and heavy, the smell a mixture of his aftershave and mouthwash. These scents bring me comfort and make me feel safe. I know these scents, I know this man. Faster and faster he pumps into me as I try to enjoy myself. Running my hands along the well-defined muscles of his back I try to create a new memory to replace the old one.

"Fuck Doc," John moans loudly, as I squeeze my vaginal muscles around him tighter trying to speed up his release.

"Sooooooo good."

"I bet every man wants this, if they only knew how good you were." I bite my lip to keep from crying out at the veracity of his statement. Faster and faster he pumps into me as he plays with my breasts. My body comes alive under his ministrations, my nipples aching from the sheer pleasure that only John can bring them. I want this man.

Over and over he slams into me as he adjusts my body so that my feet are over his shoulder. "Deeper," I beg him as I feel his skin slapping against mine. This is good and this is right.

"Doc," he yells as I feel his release deep inside of me. "Doc," he moans as he collapses on top of me exhausted by his actions. I stroke his hair as he lies on me; his body still joined to mine. I feel safe and loved.

The cold water of the shower brings me out of my reverie, shocking all my senses. I deserve to be cold and miserable I tell myself. John would die if he knew that when ejaculated with love into me, another man had already done the same. I know that I can't think about that or I'll make myself sick, but I can't help it. I was wrong and I shouldn't have tainted him like that. I was the one that deserved to be hurt, not John.

Turning off the water, I grab my towel and wrap it around me before I exit into the confines of my bedroom. I tell myself that I need to be strong, I need for my pain to remain invisible.


	3. Chapter 3

**Invisible – 3**

Distant and moody are two words that pretty much sum up how Doc has been acting for the last month. She's still the person that I married, just different. Something is off and I can't put my finger on it. I was talking to Bo and Roman at the cop shop the other day about her and they think I'm paranoid. They both think I'm reading too much into her behavior and that she's just probably busy at work and not to take it personally. How can I not though? For the past several mornings I've woken up and she's already left for work. Never in our marriage was she ever early for work and now all of a sudden it becomes such a big priority. She already has tenure; who is she trying to impress?

Looking over at her empty side, sheets long since cold, I trace my fingers over her pillow wishing that she was still lying beside me. I miss her. Maybe I've been too rough and demanding with her. Maybe I haven't been understanding. Maybe she's just tired and exhausted. Maybe what Bo and Abe said is true and I'm reading too much into her behavior. Maybe it's just me.

Finding my cell phone underneath the pile of magazines that cover the bedside table I flip it open and smile at the picture on the screen, Doc in a red lacy bra lying on the bed blonde hair everywhere. We were fooling around months ago when I picked up my phone and took the picture and swore to her that I destroyed it. She's too naïve and trusting. Yeah, a man gets a picture of his hot wife like that and he's going to destroy it? Fat chance. She bought it though and it's been my secret pleasure when I'm stressed at work. I just flip open the phone and look at all that I have forward to waiting for me at home.

Pressing speed dial #1 it takes but seconds for her to answer.

"Hey pretty lady."

"Hi honey," she tells me in a cheerful voice.

"So what cha doing?" I ask her as I grab her pillow and bring it to my chest. I can still smell her on it. I imagine her sitting at her desk all prim and proper, cup of coffee in one hand and the phone in the other.

"Work."

"Anything interesting?" I don't really care, I just like hearing the sound and her voice and knowing that she's there.

"Nothing that would interest you," she jokes, knowing me all too well.

"What no nut jobs you're trying to save the world from?" My attempt at humor is lost on her.

"John, you know I don't appreciate when you joke around about people with mental illness." I'm tempted to mock her and the way that she just said that and have to hold myself back.

"I know," I tell her in my little boy that's been scolded by his mother voice, "I'll try to respect the wacko's of society."

"You are sooooo bad John." For an instant I hear a glimpse of my Marlena, not this seemingly distant one.

"So is the doctor so, so, so, so, so, so busy today or does she have time for lunch with her exceedingly handsome and dashing husband?"

My question elicits a laugh for her. God do I love hearing her laugh. "Actually I have a lunch date."

"With who?" Is my immediate response and honestly I didn't mean for it to come out that way.

"With one of my friends," she states defensively.

"Which one?" God I'm such an ass, the question is out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes." I don't know why I'm making this into a bigger deal than it should be, but I can't help myself. For the last month, ever since she came home three hours late and wouldn't tell me where she was, its been like this; every conversation we have ends in an argument or with one of us mad, me usually being the one.

"Why should it?" Her tone is so fucking coy that I'm tempted to drive over to the hospital and personally inspect what crawled up her ass and died.

I feel my blood pressure beginning to rise and know that I need to calm down before I start yelling into the phone at her. "I want you to cancel it. I want to take my wife out for lunch….Can't a guy do that?" I ask in my most charming voice.

She seems to have calmed down a bit. "Well yes, and I appreciate you wanting to do that…how about another day this week?" she offers up. I can tell by the hint of iciness in her voice that she's still on the defensive and pissed at me.

"How about tomorrow?"

"I'm busy."

"With what?"

"John, I don't owe you an explanation of who I'm going out to lunch with and why?"

"I didn't ask you for one. Why are you so defensive?"

"I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"You act like you're hiding something from me….that's what it is isn't it." It just dawns on me that she's up to something. Everything makes perfect fucking sense now. The early mornings, the late nights, her never wanting to be intimate with me anymore unless I'm the instigator and force the issue. My fucking wife is having an affair.

"I'm not," she snaps at me a little too quickly.

"What's his name?"

"What?"

"You heard me," I blurt out at her audacity. "What. Is. His. Name?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response John." She's beyond annoyed and defensive as hell, but I don't give a damn. We're going to get to the bottom of this and now.

"Admit it, you're having an affair."

"What?"

"I didn't hear you deny it."

"Why should I?"

"You're fucking cheating on me."

"Grow up John…If you're going to be like this then I'm ending the conversation." She doesn't hang up and I can hear that she's waiting for my response.

Several long and painful seconds pass before I respond. "I'm sorry Doc. I just love you so much and you know I get paranoid and possessive about you."

"I know," she whispers and I feel bad because I've made her cry. She only whispers when she cries. I'm a fucking royal class A jerk.

"We can do lunch another day when it's good for you….you just let me know. Any day is fine. If I have a meeting I'll cancel it."

"You don't have to do that." I can hear by the nasally tone of her voice that she's still crying. I deserve to be shot for accusing her of such a thing.

"I do…I was a jerk to you and I'd like to make it up."

"You don't need to John….Really. My first appointment will be here in ten minutes and I need to clean myself up a little. You know, make myself presentable for the wackos of the world," she jokes trying to bring levity into the conversation. I appreciate her forgiving tone.

"I'm sorry Doc for accusing you of sleeping with another man."

"It's okay."

"No its not….It was wrong of me…I know that you'd never do that to me, you'd never be with another man regardless of the circumstances." What I tell her is true, after the hell that we went through with Kate, Roman and Alex there is no way that either of us would ever sleep with another person on earth regardless of the situation. No fucking way. Too much pain, hurt ego's and distrust lingering in the depths of our souls for years because of both of our infidelity. Much has been learned and conquered.

"I don't want to talk about this." It's obvious that this is still a sensitive topic to her. I thought that after months of counseling we'd moved past our Kate and Roman sensitivities. I know I have. If I ever see Roman Brady ever looking at my wife like he wants to do anything more than talk I'll fucking kill the man. End of story. And Kate? Marlena has nothing to be jealous of. I've told her countless time that Kate was nothing more than a good fuck on a cold night. I know that she didn't want to hear that, that she's convinced that there are "emotions involved in intimacy." Whatever. Sometimes I wish that she wasn't a shrink and didn't always spew her psychobabble at me. To a man, a fuck is a fuck. End of story. It doesn't always mean something. When I masturbate I'm not having thoughts and feelings for my hand and seeing roses and stars. Fuck no. I'm thinking about my wife spread eagle in front of me. She thinks I'm too crass at times. I'd rather be crass than a pussy whipped wimp like Roman.

"Okay fine….change of topic. Since I won't see you at lunch because of your mysterious lunch date, I'll see you at 4 then."

"4?" she asks.

"Remember we have the appointment at 4 with the doctor." I can't believe that she forgot. Is it just me or did she just exhale deeply into the phone.

"Doc?"

"I'm here."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…I'm just really busy today and totally forgot that we had the appointment scheduled."

"You'll be there right?"

Her hesitation is a little too long. I wait for what seems like eternity for her to answer.

"Doc?"

"I'm here."

"You'll be there, right?"

"I think I can make it….I might have to rearrange my schedule."

"Please try baby." I put on my charm, knowing how much having a baby means to both of us. This may be the last chance that we have to conceive another child and every missed appointment means a missed opportunity.

"I'll be there," she says hurriedly into the phone before she ends to the call.

I throw the phone onto the bed beside me as I place her pillow neatly back on her side of the bed. I know that I need to get ready for work, but can't help myself as I pick the phone back up and look at Marlena's sexy image.


	4. Chapter 4

**Invisible – 4**

Paranoid, tedious and obsessive are three words that pretty much describe how John's been acting as of late. I can't do or say anything without him going off on me and today is no different. I'm tired of fighting with him and being on the defensive never knowing when his mood will strike. I know that I'm late to the appointment and he's probably mad and making more out of the situation in his mind than he should. I wish for once that he'd trust me and not try to analyze everything that I do or say.

Turning the corner, I see him in the waiting room, hands shoved into his black dress pants pockets, pacing back and forth in front of the receptionists window and I know its because of me. He thinks I won't show, but I'll prove him wrong. God, I sound like a vindictive bitch and wonder when our relationship became so acrimonious.

"John." He turns towards the sound of my voice and all signs of frustration are gone and for just a few brief seconds it's as if nothing happened and we are happy again like before.

"Doc," he says as he approaches and embraces me, squeezing just a little too hard. The contact is sudden and overwhelming. I have to remind myself that this is John and I'm safe with him. My thoughts turn towards him, and I know its wrong but I can't help it. I wonder if he's with his wife and kids right now, maybe playing baseball in the backyard while I continue to suffer this life sentence that he subjected me to. He gets to be normal and happy and I get to be afraid of my own husband and ever other man, wondering what their intentions towards me are. Real fucking fair if you ask me. John's been out with him several times for drinks at the Brady pub since it happened and a little part of me wishes that he would be man enough and tell John what he did, but a larger part of me is grateful that he never does.

"Sorry I'm late…my meeting ran over," I tell him as I brush my hair out of my eyes, needing to give him an excuse for why I wasn't here on time. I'm more than thirty minutes late but how can I ever tell him that for the last thirty minutes I've been hiding in the bathroom stall dreading this appointment? He'd never understand my reasoning and would ration in his own mind that it was because I loved him a little less and didn't want to have his baby.

"Not a problem." He finally lets go of me and takes both of my hands in his. The warmth of his hands and the softness of his fingers is comforting and gives me the confidence that I can do this, I can go through with this appointment. "I figured as much. Don't worry though, I talked to the receptionist and she said that it wasn't a problem."

Even at his worst, John is a thoughtful and considerate man and today is no exception. "Good," I manage to mutter through clenched teeth hoping that he didn't notice. What is wrong with me? Wasn't this what I wanted?

"I can't wait until the day the doctor tells us we're pregnant," John says with love as he bends down to kiss me. Unable to do anything else I open my mouth slightly and close my eyes. After everything that I've been though this is the one constant, the one thing I'm not afraid of. He never kissed me, only John. Lips parted, I wait in anticipation for him and he does not disappointment. With the slightest of pressure I feel his silky lips touch mine and his tongue slowly enter my mouth. With a skill level few men possess John parts my lips further and claims my mouth as his. Over and over his tongue strokes mine dueling for control. I feel myself losing control as my nipples harden and I feel an aching in my womanhood. God I want this man and I want him now.

"Think we have time for a quickie?" he finally asks when he hears the receptionist clear her throat loudly. As he places his forehead against mine I revel in our closeness and want it to last forever.

"No," I joke as I look over to the receptionist who is trying very hard to act like she wasn't just staring at us. How could she not be? John is a handsome man and I know that there are a million women out there that would love to take my place. Just ask Kate. I don't know why I can't let that go and be over her and John but the images of them making love are still too fresh in my mind.

"What's wrong Doc." Shit, how the hell could he know what I was thinking?

"Nothing." I try to cover knowing that any discussion of Kate with him is futile and will just lead to an argument.

"Are you sure?" he asks as he places his hand on my forehead in a paternalistic manner, "You seem a little tense."

"Positive," I say too quickly and with too much cheer in my voice as I see the wheels in his head start to turn. He's going to overanalyze my response. Here we go again, fight 299 of the week.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?" How can I be mad at him when he has that look of concern on his face?

"It depends." Once the answer left my mouth I knew from the expression on his face that it was the wrong one. Why didn't I just make it easier on myself and lie to him? One little lie wouldn't have hurt.

With a raise of his eyebrow he asks," What do you mean by that?"

"It depends on what it is." I've dug myself a hole I'm not sure I can get out of.

"Our relationship is built on trust and honesty Doc," he says, his voice full of suspicion. "If you can't trust me…."

I interrupt him before he goes down this self-righteous and accusatory path, "This isn't about trust John." I want to yell and scream at him and shake some sense into him. Everything to him centers on trust and right and wrong. Well I'm sorry that he lives in a fairly tale world unfit for occupancy. I'm in a no win situation and regardless of my argument he's going to tear holes into it or read more into it than he should.

"Then why won't you tell me?

I can't help myself, my Scottish heritage getting the best of me, "God, you're infuriating sometimes." I jerk my hands out of his and break all contact. "Look, I don't owe you or anyone else an explanation for what's bothering me at all times John."

"You are hiding something from me," he asks as he moves closer to me and invades my personal space. "What are you hiding? What aren't you telling me?" Finger to his lips he's deep in thought and staring at me. Two can play this game and I stare back until the silence gets the best of me.

"Just leave it alone."

"No, I want to know what my wife, whom I love and trust more than anything in the world is hiding from me."

"Drop it," I mutter to him sternly as I gesture with my eyes towards the crowd of people that have stopped in the hallway and are watching us. "Look I don't want to have this discussion here."

"Why? This place is as good as any," he yells loudly as he stretches out his arms and turns around toward the crowd. "I'm sure they want to know as much as I do what the brilliant and perfect Doctor Marlena Evans is hiding….Don't you?" Thankfully the people that were watching were as embarrassed by his behavior as I am and the crowd dissipates.

I cannot believe his audacity and it takes every ounce of self-control that I have not to walk out of the hospital, walk out on him. Is this what we've been reduced to? Man and wife who can't coexist in a space for more than a couple of minutes? Is this how he sees me, really sees me? I'm something less than human? He just validated every reason I had for not telling him about what happened; he's not emotionally mature enough to handle it.

"Not here," I warn him again.

"You won't talk to me on the phone, you won't talk to me at home…why not now? You're here, I'm here, let's just get this issue out on the table."

"You know why," I mutter under my breath as I wonder why I'm still standing here. "I'm tired of fighting with you John." Sitting down in the chair I signal to him that this conversation is over. "Lets just get this appointment over with."

"What the fuck Marlena?" He asks in a disgusted tone as he flops down into the chair next to mine. "Let's just get this over with?" I can't help but look at him and see the hurt reflected in his eyes and once again I feel guilty for my choice of words. As I hard as I try I can't stop myself from hurting him and I know that its something that he doesn't deserve. I can't blame him for how he's acting when I created this mess and made him this way.

"Please John."

"No….this is a child Marlena. A child we both desperately want, at least I do….Did you change your mind? Is that what this is about? You're afraid to tell me that you don't want to have our baby?"

"No..John…No." Why can't he see that I desperately want more than anything to give him another child, a son to carry on his name. A son to make everything right in the world for me; an heir that would cement my place as his wife.

"Then don't dismiss me, don't dismiss this," I can barely hear him as he's learning forward in the chair with his face in his hands. "God I hate when you do that." I hate when I do it to and I don't mean to, I really don't,

"Look, I'm sorry that I'm human John….I don't want to fight with you so if you don't mind I'm just going to read this magazine." I pick up the nearest magazine and start flipping through the pages, not really looking at anything but needing the distraction. Out of the corner of my eye I notice that John is watching me intently.

"Mr. and Mrs. Black," the receptionist calls loudly in the window. "The doctor is ready to see you now."

Lying on the table bathed in a sheet of white she looks like an angel to me and I feel guilty for ever doubting her. Marlena is everything that is good and right in the world and I don't know what I would ever do if I lost her.

"Are you nervous," I ask her, noting that her eyes are closed and her hands are gripping the sides of the exam table.

"No….I'm just tired….its been a long day." She looks like she's napping on the table and I wonder what's going through her mind. What wasn't she telling me earlier, what was she hiding?

"Hopefully the good doc will be able to come in and give us some good news," I tell her imagining my progeny of black haired and blue eyed boys running wild around the house. These children don't even exist and here I am giving them life, loving them.

"Hopefully," she whispers, her voice full of anything but. Something is bothering her and its killing me that I don't know what. I can't but help but replay every conversation that we've had for the last month in my mind. Added to that is the fact that I know she wasn't at work earlier or in a meeting. When I stopped by her office at 3:30 to see if she wanted to go to the appointment with me her secretary said that she left the office at noon for a lunch date and told her she'd be gone the rest of the day. Where the hell was she and more importantly who was she with? Another man? .I want to question her about where she was but know that from her outburst earlier that this isn't the time or place.

"Mr. Black," Dr. Adams says as he walks into the room and shakes my hand. "Mrs. Black," he says nodding towards Marlena who has finally opened her eyes. She nods back at him and I know that this whole process has to be uncomfortable. The tests done on my sperm count validated that I had great swimmers. Everything since then has revolved around her. I feel bad for all the tests and procedures that she's gone through but she's been adamant all along that she wanted another baby. I was fine with adopting, but she has some fantasy about giving me a son.

"So Marlena, I see from your chart that you've been taking the pills as instructed? Are you experiencing any side effects?" Does bitchiness count as a side effect I wonder? Hopefully these fertility drugs that are intended to increase her ovulation do the trick because I don't know how much more of her moodiness I can take.

"Yes," she tells him, "I've noticed an increase in tenderness in my breasts. Is this a normal side effect?"

The doctor proceeds to respond in technical jargon that I don't understand and don't want to. I haven't moved past the fact that my wife is discussing her breasts with another man. Dr. Adams didn't need to know that about her.

"Lie back on the table and place your feet in the stir-ups," the doctor tells Marlena. "You know the drill…."Mr. Black, would you mind supporting your wife's head while I do the exam?" Um no. I really want to see the exam but I know that the doctor won't allow it. He wants to make the exam all technical, but to me any chance to see my wife's cooch is a good one. Like I'm going to pass up an opportunity to view me some pussy? Hell no.

Like a dutiful gay husband I assume my place behind Marlena while the good doctor gets to dive between her legs. Where the hell is the justice in that?

"Ouch," Marlena blurts out loudly and I look down to see what Dr. Adams is doing. He has some contraption out that he's trying to shove up her hole. I'd cry out too. So glad I'm not a woman.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Black." His voice is so soothing and reassuring. He probably gets lots of chicks with his bedside manner. He probably says "I'm sorry" and their clothes fly off left and right, no foreplay needed. I should have been a fucking doctor. I look down at Marlena face and she's fucking smiling at the man. If I'd have done that she would have slapped me.

"Does this hurt?" he asks says as he does something, his contraption making a clicking sound.

Marlena says nothing but her eyes are closed tightly and her knuckles are white from where she's been holding onto the side of the examination table.

"I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but you have several small tears in your vagina."

"What?" I ask the doctor as I go around the table to take a look. The doctor tries to cover her somewhat, giving her some modesty. "I've seen it all long before you," I tell the doctor as I try to get a better look.

"Stop," Marlena says suddenly as she tries to sit up. She can't sit up far because of that metal thing that Dr. Adams shoved up her. That had to hurt. "I'm not a piece of meat," she says as she looks at me. Okay fine, I get her point, I'll be good.

"Marlena, when is the last time you had sexual intercourse?" the doctor asks. I wait with baited breath crossing my fingers and hoping it was the last time we had sex. It damn well better be.

"A month ago." So maybe she's not having an affair.

"Tears like the ones you have can be quite painful, but easily treatable and shouldn't prevent you from trying to conceive. I'd just advise that the next time you make love you be a little less rough Mr. Black," the doctor joked. I wasn't rough with her the last time we made love. "Normally I'd do a more thorough examination to see if you've conceived however due to the tears and the fact that there are bleeding and I don't want to make them worse so if its alright with you both I'll put off the full exam until your next appointment.

"Thank you Dr. Adams," Marlena says as she lays back down and spreads her legs. With a couple clicks the device is out of her and its only then do I notice that Marlena is shivering on the table.

"Marlena honey, are you cold?" I ask as I take off my jacket and place it over her.

"Yes," she says as her teeth chatter uncontrollably.

"Are you almost done down there Doctor Adams?" I ask.

"Just a couple more minutes," the doctor says, "I need to do one more thing….Wait," suddenly the doctor stops what he's doing and gets a really odd look on his face. "John I need to speak to Marlena alone."

"No," Marlena blurts out as she covers herself with my jacket, bring it up to her face.

"It will just take a couple of minutes Marlena….It's important."

"No," she repeats again as she looks up at me for help. I've seen the look before; she's scared.

"If my wife says no, the answer is no," I tell the doctor as I help Marlena sit up. She immediately clings to me for support and a part of me wonders why. Why does the doctor want to talk to her?

Quickly she gets off the table and I see what may be the cause of the doctors concern. Small specks of blood line the paper that covered the table. Without a second thought Marlena grabs her underwear and pants from the chair and puts them on. I look over at the doctor and he appears to be watching Marlena intently, a concerned look on his face.

"I don't think I can do this John," she tells me as she buttons her shirt and turns around. Tears are running down her face. "What's wrong?"

"I don't think I want to have another baby," she blurts out as she grabs her purse and runs from the room leaving me stunned. What the hell is going on with her?


	5. Chapter 5

Invisible - 5

As time is measured by grains of sand passing slowly through an hourglass, misunderstandings are measured by resentment and heartache. Eight long weeks of nights spent alone, dinners on the go and never ending work and social commitments only served to put more distance between John and Marlena. The incident in the doctor's office should have been the catalyst for Marlena telling John about her rape, but wasn't. With each passing day she found yet another reason of why she couldn't tell him and he found more evidence of her betrayal.

For once I'm happy that he's gone and that I have the house to myself. I can't take his stares and silence anymore. He always has that look on his face that he wants to ask me something, yet never does. When he's not staring at me and giving me the silent treatment he's yelling at me or accusing me of doing something that I didn't. In a way his silence has become a comforting friend to me.

Why can't I be honest with him? Why can't I be honest with myself?

Taking off my jacket, I place it neatly on the back of the chair and place my quilted Chanel purse on the top of the desk. John hates messes and I know that I should move them both up to the bedroom but I'm too tired. More than anything I just want to lay down and think about nothing for a while.

I barely make it to the couch when I feel a sharp pain, like someone pushed a hot poker into my side and is twisting it around. Mother of god it hurts. It takes every ounce of effort I have to make it to the couch were I collapse and roll to my side, rubbing the spot where it hurts. What the hell is wrong with me?

I've felt awful for the last couple of weeks, but don't have the will or the energy to see my primary care physician. I know what Doctor Petroff will say and I don't want to hear it. It's all in my head and that if I was honest with those around me I wouldn't be feeling this way. As a psychiatrist I know that but for the life of me can't stop it. I can't stop the way I'm feeling and the fact that I'm supposed to have all the answers pisses me off. I should be able to heal myself and move on. I've been through this before with Kellam Chandler, and I know the stages of recovery almost too well. I need to find a way to cope with what he did to me before this eats me up inside. Maybe that's why I feel this way, maybe I've given myself an ulcer. That would be poetic justice in a way.

Looking at my watch I see that its nearly nine o'clock and John is nowhere to be found. It dawns on me that I don't even care if he's at the office working late or at a business meeting; I'm just glad that he's gone and I can have some time alone.

How did we become this way? He used to be my best friend; I could tell him anything and now I look for excuses to avoid him. The marriage I thought I had, the indescribable soul mate connection with John has proven to be nothing more than a mirage. My vow to love, honor and cherish John was never real, how could it be? I wanted that ideal; I needed for this marriage to work to prove to everyone that ever doubted our commitment that what we had was real and lasting. John in retrospect just wanted to confirm to Roman that he'd won. Why couldn't I see that at the time? Was I so blinded by my need to be good enough that I settled for something less than I deserved? Or do I foolishly tell myself that so I'll feel better?

The pain has subsided enough that I can sit up. Everywhere I look in the apartment are reminders of us. So much of me has been tied to an identity that co-exists with him and I know nothing else. I should be drawing my strength from John right now and he should be in jail.

"God," I scream loudly as I put my hands over my face and rub my eyes. I'm hoping that he'll hear me and help me but know the chance of that happening is infinitesimal. I'm on my own with this one. I have to stop this, I have to stop obsessing and worrying about the past and concentrate on the future. My marriage is unraveling one thread at a time and I'm desperately hanging onto the ends of the last two threads. And he doesn't seem to give a damn. My decision not to have his child was obviously the right one. I know that I hurt him deeply when I lied to him and told him that I never wanted to have his child. He called me some choice names and disappeared for three days. For three fucking days I layed on the couch, phone in hand waiting for him to call, only for him to return home like nothing had happened. When I asked where he was he matter of factly told me that I wasn't his keeper and he could do as he wanted. It was a couple days later when I ran into his wife that she told me that John had spent that time with them and had heard all about our problems. I literally wanted to curl up and die at that moment. I was laying on the couch and crying myself to sleep each night while he was having a slumber party with the man that raped me?

How is it possible to love and hate someone so much at the same time? I need John here with me; I long for a reassuring hug telling me that everything is going to be okay. I have enough sense to recognize that I can't do this alone, but I don't know how to fix this. It's too late for me to confess my secret and tell him what happened. Too much time and too many fights have rendered that choice obsolete. Silently I suffer and pray for the courage to find a way to let him go.

I see her as I enter the penthouse, lying on the couch. Even at this late hour my defenses are up. I just want to go upstairs and take a shower and go to bed, but she sees me first.

"John," her voice breaks though the darkness of the room.

"Yes." I set my keys down on the desk and reach towards my belt to unhook my Blackberry phone. The gentle vibration of the device notifies me that I have another email.

"Nothing," she finally says, the coldness in her voice ever present. I'm afraid to say anything more because I don't want to fight with her. I just want to figure out what's going on so that we can move on and I'm hopeful that one of the emails I just received is from the private detective I hired to follow her.

Bingo. My thumb quickly moves the trackwheel as I open the email that hopefully will tell me who Marlena is having an affair with. Is it one of the doctors at the hospital? Is it someone she met at the gym? Before I read it I glance at my wife, hoping to god that I don't find evidence of her betrayal. I want to be wrong; I don't want to know that she's done this to us.

If she's not having an affair then fine, I'll find a way to get to the bottom of what seems to be eating her alive. She hasn't been taking care of herself and frankly for a lack of a better term, looks like shit. She's not sleeping well, is hardly ever affectionate and is skittish when I make any physical contact. Sex is out of the question and has been for almost twelve weeks. Thank god for my hand or I'd have blue balls most of the time. Marlena used to be a little nympho, wanting to go at it at all times day and night and now she avoids it. Is it me or is she getting it somewhere else? I should probably see my doctor to make sure she's hasn't given me a STD like herpes. I'll hurt her bad if she has, I really will. But my god if I find that she's been cheating on me I'll fucking kill them both.

"John," the email starts, "The log of Mrs. Black's activities for the day are as follows: 0600 – left the penthouse, 0615 – breakfast with Dr. Craig Wesley in the hospital cafeteria, 0645 – returned to office. 0800 – 1200 hours – saw various patients. One patient in particular, a handsome male of approximately 40 years of age was in her office for approximately an hour. 6 foot 5, blond hair, blue eyes, athletic build, drives a Lexus. 1215 - left office and drove around in her car until 1400 hours. 1400 hours – returned to office. 1430 – 1800 hours – saw patients and had several male doctor visitors. 1800 – left office in a hurry and seemed to be upset. I lost track of her in the hospital and didn't see her again until she got into her car at 1930 hours. During the block of time that is unaccounted for she was in the hospital. The attached file contains pictures of all the visitors to the office as well as what she looked like when she left. I've enlarged the picture, so it may look kind of blurry. The picture speaks for itself. She put something in her purse before she unlocked her car, which may be a clue to your wife's infidelity. My assessment is that she is most likely having an affair with someone at the hospital; find the evidence in her purse if at all possible and let me know if you have a new lead you want up to check up on. Dave."

I feel my blood pressure begin to rise and can't believe that she's fucking done this to me. I gave her everything that I could and it apparently wasn't enough. Here she is lounging on the sofa that I bought in this fancy penthouse that I bought. Every fucking thing she's wearing from shoes to her earrings were bought with my money. Even the Mercedes parked in the garage was bought with my money and she has the nerve to do this to me. Wasn't I enough?

"John, why are you just standing there?" she finally asks, I guess the silence became too much for her.

"I'm reading an important email." Can she tell that with one click and a picture that our relationship may change in an instant and that she'd better run and hide from me?

"I think I'll make myself some tea. Would you like any?" She asks as she gets up from the couch and walks towards me. God, she's stunning even when she's a mess. I have to resist the allure to run my fingers though her long blond hair and kiss the side of her neck. She's apparently already used sex in this battle and I can't let her use it with me.

"No thank you." I just need for her to be in the kitchen when I open the picture because I really, really, really don't want to hurt her and far away from me is the safest place.

Time seems to pass in slow motion as I watch her leave the room and open the picture. Right there in two inch glory is a picture of Marlena that I know quite well; hair messed up, lipstick smudged, clothes disheveled. She looks like she was just fucked and hadn't had time to straighten her clothes. I'm going to kill her, kill her.

Spotting her purse on the desk I immediately go over to it and open it, grabbing it by the sides and dumping the contents out on the desk. Fuck me color lipstick, tissue, pens, receipts, business cards, and some makeup crap that I don't know what its called, her key ring and her wallet. A key to the Salem Inn is lying next to her wallet. Salem Inn? Is that where she's been fucking him? Is that where she's been spreading her legs and putting out to any man that looks her way because it sure as hell hasn't been here.

Picking up the stack of business cards I go through them quickly trying to figure out which of these men is her lover, or maybe there's more than one.

"What the hell do you think you're doing."

"What does it look like?" My back is to her and I know that I'm not ready to look at her yet, this is all too fresh for me.

"It looks like you're going through my purse." I know that tone and she's about to go off. Good, it's about time we faced the real issue. She's the one that created this mess, not me. She grabs her empty purse off the desk and starts putting her stuff into it.

"What's his name Marlena?"

"What?"

"You heard me? What is your lovers name?"

"Are you accusing me of having an affair?" She looks dumbfounded for a moment but I know that's just because she's been caught. She grabs the business cards out of my hand and tries to shove them into her purse.

"Damn straight, but I don't hear you denying it."

"I don't like your tone of voice and I can't believe that you are accusing me of cheating on you."

"Deny it then, tell me I'm crazy and wrong and there's some other reason you've been a major bitch for the last 3 months…..Tell me Marlena." I'm yelling at her now, but she's not backing down. She knows that I'm right and she's been caught.

"I don't have to tell you anything John," she screams back at me with a look on her face that I rarely ever see. "Don't you ever go through my personal stuff again."

"I'm your husband, I have a right to see what you're hiding from me."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Then let me see all those business cards… Which one of those men are you fucking Marlena?"

"Stop this John," she demands as she turns from me and rubs her side. Good, I'm finally getting to her and maybe for once she'll be honest with me.

"No, I'm not going to stop this…I deserve answers. I've been more than patient and understanding of all your goddamn mood swings. I haven't been laid in three months. Would you like for me to continue?"

"No, you've said enough." She won't look up at me, further evidence of her guilt. If I was accused of doing something that I didn't do I'd deny it until the cows came home.

"So where did you fuck him Marlena? Was it in the Salem Inn? Was it in the hospital? You like fucking on hard surfaces don't you? Did you try out another conference room table?"

"Don't you ever try to minimize what we had John. Don't." She's screaming at me again and I see tears forming in her eyes. I feel awful that I'm making her cry but I don't know how else to get the truth out of her.

I need to push her or else I may never get the answers I need, "Look Marlena, we both know that you haven't been faithful in any marriage that you've been in…."

"Don't John," she puts her hand up as if to shield herself from me, but how can she deny the truth; she cheated on Roman and had an affair with me, she cheated on me with Roman. Fidelity doesn't exactly run in her blood.

"Is it hard to hear the truth? Just tell me who you're fucking…I want his name, that's all."

"You're already convinced that I'm having an affair and there is nothing I can do or say to convince you otherwise."

"I don't hear you denying it."

"A marriage is built on trust John, if you can't trust my word than there is nothing I can do or say that will otherwise change your mind,"

"Deny it then." I don't mean to grab her by the arms, but I do.

"Let go of me."

"No….you either deny it or tell me his name?"

She jerks her arm out of my grasp and picks up the pile of business cards out of her purse and starts flipping through them. Finally she's going to tell me the truth. "If you think you're so smart, take your pick of which one I'm fucking." She throws the stack of cards at me and walks towards the stairs. "It's over John….I can't live like this anymore."

Hell no, she's not walking away from this and me. She's the one that cheated and needs to be held accountable for destroying our marriage. "Run to your lover Marlena," I taunt her, beyond hurt.

"My attorney will be sending you the divorce papers," she tells me as she descends the staircase. "I want out of this marriage."

"Fine, whatever you want, but as the adulterer in this marriage don't think you're taking half of my money." She has yet to deny that she's having an affair.

"I don't want your money John," she screams from the top of the staircase. "I just want out. I'm tired of living like this."

"Always the coward huh. You're the one that cheated on me and now you're trying to play the victim and make me feel bad? My friends warned me about you and how you are with men. I can't believe I've been such a fool... Everything you ever said about yours and Roman's relationship in the castle was a lie. You never loved me, you never wanted to have my baby...you just stayed with me out of a sense of obligation because that's what Dr. Evans does…"

"That's not true," she interrupts as the tears stream down her face. She's clutching her side again and appears to be in pain. Good, I hope she's being eaten up inside for what she's done to us.

"It is true Marlena, my friends were right, I'd have been better off with Kate."

I shouldn't have said that and as the words left my mouth I knew that I'd crossed the line and stabbed her in the gut with her own insecurities. I don't have time to apologize to her as she runs down the stairs, grabs her purse and leaves the house, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

What the hell just happened?


End file.
